


Reality Had No Gears

by oretsev



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Leviathan - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - World War I, Angst, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Leviathan AU, Secret Identity, but like light enough Leviathan AU that it's more like vaguely steampunk WWI AU, but not like soul crushing angst, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oretsev/pseuds/oretsev
Summary: Riza Hawkeye has been posing as a man to serve aboard the airship Leviathan for three years, but the arrival of a newcomer threatens to expose everything she's worked so hard to put behind her.





	Reality Had No Gears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarberryCupcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarberryCupcake/gifts).



_Autumn, 1917_

Riza Hawkeye watched intently as enormous wooden crates were loaded into the cargo hold of the _Leviathan_. Large black letters were stamped across the sides. A warning or a label, Riza wasn’t sure, as all the words were in German. In fact, Riza wasn’t sure about much of what was going on. The crew had been told that the ship was making an unscheduled stop to pick up a delivery, but no one seemed to be at liberty to say anything beyond that.

“Mr. Hawkins!” Riza turned, as used to answering to her alias as her given name after so many years living as a man. The Baroness Armstrong strode towards her, Miles at her side. Unlike the rest of the crew, Olivier Armstrong served in a diplomatic fashion rather than military, the latter being prohibited for women. On paper, at least. In reality, her word was law, second only to Captain Grumman. Armstrong had been serving aboard the _Leviathan_ since before Riza’s assignment, and although her title afforded her certain privileges, there was no doubt among the crew that she had earned her place on the bridge. “Follow me,” she commanded.

Riza followed silently as they rounded a row of the crates. A dark haired man stood up ahead, speaking animatedly in German with one of the ship’s engineers and another man she didn’t recognize. He turned at their approach, and the breath froze in Riza’s lungs. His face made clear the years that had passed since she last saw him, and he now wore a jacket with a Clanker insignia pinned to the lapel, but she would know him anywhere.

Ringing filled her ears as she watched his face, horrified at recognition dawning in his eyes. Distantly, she heard Armstrong introduce him. Riza shook his extended hand, mind reeling. This couldn’t be happening.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr…. Hawkins,” Roy said slowly. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern. Riza pulled back her hand as quickly as she could without displaying her discomfort.

Armstrong looked between the two of them, her gaze lingering on Riza. “I didn’t realize you were acquainted.

Riza cleared her throat, desperate to take back control of the situation. “We grew up together. In the same town.”

“I see.” Armstrong watched Riza a moment longer before turning back to Roy. “Mr. Hawkins is one of my most trusted men aboard the ship. He’ll be assisting you until we arrive in London to make the exchange. Now, if everything has been secured, we’re needed back at our posts for ascent. Miles will show you to your room.”

Riza stood, frozen, as Miles led Roy away. Roy looked back at her just once before he and Miles were out of sight.

Armstrong turned to Riza, pinning her with her cold stare. At last she spoke. “Should I be concerned about your… acquaintance?”

Riza’s mind spun, struggling to incorporate this unexpected variable from her past into her mental calculus. They weren’t far from London, she thought. Though the uncertainty was excruciating, it would be over soon. He could have exposed her immediately, but he hadn’t. He was keeping this information to himself, though Riza could think of any number of reasons he might withhold this valuable fact. “No,” she said finally. “If Captain Grumman trusts him enough to bring him aboard, I trust him as well.”

“If you feel you are… unable… to perform your duties as his escort for the duration of his stay, I can re-assign the post.” Armstrong’s eyes narrowed as she studied Riza’s reaction. “I don’t have the authority to have him removed from the ship, but I can make sure you don’t see him again.”

Wisps of memory flung themselves to the forefront of Riza’s mind. Chalkdust on her skirt. A house on the edge of town. The scent of laundry soap on a shirt collar. Music in the town square. A deafening explosion. The taste of ashes. No, enough of that, she thought. She pressed the images back, breathing deep and focusing on Armstrong’s piercing stare. She was stronger than this, and she would prove it. “Our… prior acquaintance… does not impede my ability to perform my duties, sir.”

“See that it doesn’t.” Armstrong gave Riza one long, last look. Riza felt as though she were being offered a lifeline, but she couldn’t bring herself to take it. “I’d like to meet with Mr. Mustang back here first thing in the morning. Get some rest in the meantime.”

 

* * *

 

A knock at the door stirred Riza from where she sat on her bunk. She stood and opened the door, expecting to find one of the newly appointed riggers with some question or another. Instead, a face both familiar and foreign stared back at her.

A heavy moment passed between them before Roy cleared his throat. He held out a stack of papers towards her. “The Baroness Armstrong wanted me to deliver these to you.”

Riza wordlessly stepped aside to let him into her cramped quarters. She glanced down the hall to see if they’d been observed; satisfied that no one was about at this time of night, she closed the door behind them. Turning back to him, she placed her hands on her hips. Her mouth was set in a firm line, eyes inscrutable.

Roy dropped the papers, clearly a ruse, at the foot of her cot. His face softened once the door had closed. His voice was barely above a whisper when he said her name. “Riza.”

She shook her head. It had been years since she had heard that name and the weight of it sagged across her shoulders like an ill-fitting jacket. “You can’t call me that here.”

Roy stepped towards her. “I thought I’d never see you again. And now, here, of all places?”

“I could say the same of you,” she said impassively.

“I don’t understand what’s going on. What are you doing here? What is all this?” He gestured towards her, towards her trousers, her short hair. Over time, she’d gotten used to the disconnect between her own identity and the disguise she wore. At some point, it had stopped feeling like a disguise and more like armor. But the way he looked at her, _really looked at her,_ had her itching to shed her skin and start over somewhere she’d never be found, to rebuild her armor from the inside out, a hundred times stronger than before.

Riza smiled ruefully. “You know as well as I do that they don’t allow women in the service.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he snapped, anger igniting in his eyes. She knew he couldn’t know what she’d been through these past years, but her resentment at his departure so long ago had had plenty of time to crystalize into bitterness. For three long years, she hadn’t spoken a word of him, of her father, of her home. For three years, she’d buried her past alongside her name, deep within herself. And yet the mere sight of him had it bubbling to the surface, his anger the catalyst that brought it boiling over.

“You left!” she hissed. “You left, without even bothering to say goodbye. And then you turn up here, hustled onto the ship under false pretenses with crates full of God knows what, wearing their clothes, speaking their language. _I’m_ not the one who needs to explain myself. I’ve been given an order to ensure you have what you need while you’re aboard, and I’ll see to it that you do. But do not make the mistake of thinking you are entitled to anything further from me. You may have known me once, but that girl is gone. She died in the rubble of Amestris, just like her father.”

Roy opened his mouth only to close it again, at a loss for words. Finally, after an agonizingly silent moment, he spoke. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” Roy scrubbed a hand across his face. “When?”

Spent, Riza’s hands dangled lifelessly at her sides. Her gaze was trained on the wall behind him. “After you left. Just days after.”

The air rushed out of Roy’s lungs. “Can we sit? I have to tell you something.” 

 

* * *

 

 _Summer, 1914_  

“Riza, can you wait a minute?” Roy stepped quietly into the cloakroom of the school house, glancing through the doorway to where the other students gathered outside before making the walk home.

Riza had been collecting her things but she looked up at him, a soft smile on her face. “If this is about the essay assignment, my proofreading skills are in high demand, you know.” Her eyes, so often solemn, were mischievous. “I may not have time for yours.”

Roy grinned. “I don’t think we’d ever get my writing up to your standards.”

“Ah, well,” Riza sighed playfully. “There goes that dream of outscoring me in English, then.”

“Ah well,” Roy repeated. “At least I’ve got maths, though.” Since coming to Amestris four years ago, he and Riza had continually vied for top marks in the school. The competitive drive of their younger years had eventually given way to an easy appreciation of the other’s skills, and recently Roy had found himself gazing across the school room at her more and more often, and with less and less of an academic eye.

Riza cinched her book strap tight. “True enough. What did you really want to ask me, though?”

Roy rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. She had a way of cutting straight to the core of things, knowing what he was thinking before he could even put it into words. “I wanted to ask if you were going to the Founder’s Day festival tomorrow.” Though the town was somber as news of the war trickled in, it was decided that their annual festival would continue on as planned.

“Of course, everyone is. Will you be there?”

Roy nodded. “I was thinking that maybe we could walk there together, if we’re both going.”

“I’m awfully far out of your way, Mr. Mustang.” Riza’s eyes glittered, reminding him of the look she used to get during spelling bees when he would be given a difficult word that she knew how to spell. “Surely we’ll see each other there.”

Roy shook his head, but he was smiling. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Riza replied, though her smirk said otherwise.

He sighed. “Would you, Riza Hawkeye, accompany me to the Founder’s Day festival?”

“Yes,” Riza said simply. She laughed as Roy pantomimed wiping a drop of sweat from his brow.

“What a relief. I’ll be by tomorrow, then. I can say hello to your father as well, I haven’t seen him much in town lately.”

“He’s been working, writing mostly. He’ll be happy to see you though, he’s desperate for a new victim to explain his latest research to.” Riza waved her hand dismissively.

“I suppose I could indulge him, just for a moment. Wouldn’t want to delay my other engagements, after all.” Roy held Riza’s gaze, not wanting to disturb this moment where everything seemed so perfectly aligned.

Riza cleared her throat. “Speaking of delays…” She glanced out the door. “I really should be getting home.”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” Riza agreed. It seemed to take an age for her to pull her gaze away and leave the cloakroom. Left on his own, Roy dragged a hand through his hair. He’d expected to feel anxious, but instead he felt a warmth in his chest.

Less than a day until he could see her again. 

 

* * *

 

The next day he dressed in his Sunday best and took care not to kick the dust up around him as he walked to the Hawkeye household. Riza met him at the gate, explaining that her father wasn’t feeling well but that he asked her to say hello for him. As they walked towards town Roy couldn’t help but steal glances at her, though after catching her eye a few times he suspected he wasn’t being nearly as covert as he hoped. She looked especially beautiful today, he thought, in a light dress that matched the scent of the summer air. The breeze made her long golden curls dance across her shoulders, and Roy longed to reach up and catch a strand between his fingers.

Hours later, after the sun had set and the glowworm lanterns settled their diffuse light over the evening, after the music and laughter in the town square had died down, he would do just that. As they lingered at her garden gate, Roy cautiously brushed a stray curl behind her ear. His hand stilled, resting against her cheekbone, as he watched her expression soften. Riza turned her face ever so slightly, her lips ghosting across the flesh of his palm. She sighed, and her breath across his skin set his nerves alight.

In one movement, he stepped closer and brought his lips to hers. She was warm beneath his touch, his hand still in her hair. He felt something almost like pain in his chest: a longing to be near her, though she was still in his arms. And yet, there was a joy that bubbled up within him. He smiled against her lips and he felt her smile back, a smile that remained when they broke apart some minutes later at the sound of fabricated hooves clopping around the corner.

A smile that remained for the next week, until he disappeared without warning. 

 

* * *

 

 _Autumn, 1917_  

Riza sat on her cot, stone-faced once more as she waited for his confession. He sat across from her on an overturned crate, their knees nearly touching in her cramped quarters.

Roy’s eyes were trained on his hands where they fidgeted in his lap. “You remember my Aunt Chris?” He glanced up in time to see Riza nod. “And the, ah, boarding house that she ran? Where we lived?”

He blew out a breath, delaying the inevitable. Riza did nothing to break the silence. Roy closed his eyes as he steeled himself.

“It wasn’t a boarding house. It was all a front. It was a safehouse for military informants.” Once he began, it was as though he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out as fast as possible. “They sent her to Amestris because it was isolated, but near the border. We ran for nearly four years undetected. I… I always knew _something_ was going on, but I didn’t realize how deep we were in until I was older. Chris kept so much of it from me, and I stupidly never thought about how all the pieces might come together, never saw so much of what was happening right in front of me. And then one day they showed up on our door.”

He paused, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling rather than face Riza where she sat, unmoved. “They said that word had gotten out and we needed to leave immediately, that we were in danger. And I wanted… I wanted nothing more than to run to you, to leave a note, to bring you with me, anything, anything but leave you with no explanation. We left. But it seems we were too late. We cost you everything.” He hung his head in shame. “I’ve been working with them ever since, operating out of Germany. They never mentioned _anything_ about Amestris after we left.”

“You have to believe me, Riza. I never would have left you if I had a choice. I wish I could go back. I wish we had left before we painted a target on that town. I wish everything was different.” He reached across the space between them and took her hand in his. She sucked in a small breath at his touch. Her hands were rough and calloused, airman’s hands if he’d ever seen them, so unlike the touch he remembered. He could feel the tension in her muscles slowly abating as he brushed his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand. For all the years and miles and pain that separated them, there was familiarity in this, their touch.

Back then, in Amestris, the two of them had seemed an inevitable conclusion. Roy had been in no rush, content to let the unspoken gravity between them play out of its own accord. In time it was so easy, so very easy, to acknowledge his growing regard for her. When he touched her, it didn’t feel new, it felt like coming home. And now, amid the gentle swaying of the airship, her hand in his felt like a home left to the elements but a home nonetheless.

“I thought I’d marry you someday,” he said softly.

Riza bit her lip, a single tear tracing down her cheek. “I thought so too.” She looked away as she pulled her hand back, quickly wiping away the traitor tear.

“How did you get here, Riza?” He sounded exhausted, the shock and late hour finally taking their toll. Beneath it all, though, there was a hint of awe. With the memory of the girl from the Founder’s Day festival burned into his mind, he looked at the woman in front of him.

Of course there were the obvious differences. Even beneath the men’s uniform she wore, Roy could tell she was corded with dense muscle, the result of years of labor. The cuffs of her sleeves were rolled back, exposing forearms riddled with countless scratches and scars. Her hair was chopped short, dredging up memories of the last time he’d brushed his hands through her curls. And then there were her _eyes._ Still the warm amber hue he remembered, but her gaze was sharp edged, direct. Combined with her rigid posture, she radiated an unwavering solidity.

Riza closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself before speaking. “After… everything… the Rockbells took in anyone they could, out on their farm. But I couldn’t stay there. I knew I’d never be able to get far enough away from that town. From myself. I told them I was leaving to find work, a factory maybe.” She shook her head gently at the memory. “I got to London and I saw a recruitment station… It seemed like the perfect opportunity to become someone else, to throw myself into the work, maybe even get a chance to hit back at the monsters that took everything from me.”

The corners of her lips quirked upwards, not a smile so much as wry amusement. “And it worked. I fell into bed every night too tired to remember my own name. I never had to fight off the past.” Her smile faded. “Until today.”

Roy understood the comfort of detachment, but he couldn’t bring himself to be sorry they’d crossed paths. “Who else knows?”

“Armstrong is the only one who knows for certain. She figured it out fairly early on but said as long as I never brought dishonor to her airship, there was no reason to tell anyone. I think some of the others have begun to suspect… a few years back they were giving me grief about how young I looked.” Riza dragged a hand through her cropped hair. “I told them I had lied about my age to join up, which bought me a little more time. No one’s said anything, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them had put it together.”

“And you trust them?”

“This ship couldn’t run if her crew didn’t trust each other. But there’s a difference between trusting them with my life and trusting them with my secrets. The men I work with every day? If they haven’t figured it out already they might be shocked, a few of them might even be angry. But they know they’ll never find another airman that knows this ship better, who’s proven himself time after time like I have. They’d be shooting themselves in the foot.”

Hearing the pride in her voice, the assurance of the crew’s regard for her, Roy felt for the first time since seeing her that perhaps this was more than an ill-fated folly.

“The crew who don’t know me, though? Who haven’t been here long enough to see what I can do?” She shrugged. “We’ve got men circulating in and out every few months, kitchen boys, deckhands, and the like. You never know with them who can keep their mouth shut, what will spill out as idle gossip on their next assignment, at the pub. If word got out, outside this ship where the Baroness can’t protect me… well. If anyone knows, they’ve been doing me a favor to keep quiet about it.”

“You can’t stay here forever, though. You won’t always have the excuse of youth, or someone will find out. Where will you go?”

Riza laughed darkly. “There’s a war on, Roy. No one’s thinking about tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

The morning came regardless, just hours after Roy reluctantly returned to his room. Riza’s quarters had felt achingly empty, something she had never before experienced in her small corner of the ship. Aside from her bed and a small table and washbasin, the remaining space was consumed by crates of equipment, stacks of books, piles of paper. There had never been room for loneliness before.

At dawn, she reported to the cargo hold as instructed. Armstrong was already there, conferring with one of the men who had arrived with Roy while Miles took notes on a clipboard. As she approached, Roy emerged from behind one of the large crates. He looked as exhausted as she felt, but having him in her sight quieted the buzzing thoughts that had kept her up all night.

Armstrong looked up at the sound of their footsteps. “Ah, good. You’re here.” She took the clipboard from Miles, flipping through the pages. “We’re running ahead of schedule, set to arrive in London by the evening. We haven’t been able to get in touch with our contact there, though, which means there’s been a change of plans.”

Something in Armstrong’s voice set Riza on edge. “Sir?” She glanced over at Roy. His eyebrows were drawn together; this was clearly the first he’d heard of this.

Armstrong’s lips curled into a wry smirk. “Mr. Hawkins, you’ll be accompanying Mr. Mustang into London to make the exchange.” Riza opened her mouth, but Armstrong held up a silencing finger. “I trust you are sufficiently motivated to avoid detection? After all, if you’re intercepted, it will be _both_ our reputations on the line.” Armstrong lifted an eyebrow, her meaning clear.

It seemed that Riza Hawkeye’s past wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a birthday gift for Luly, who requested a drabble featuring "short-haired Riza as an airman" with "extra points if Olivier shows up." Clearly I disregarded the "drabble" part, but hopefully I hit the mark with the rest of it! The title is taken from one of my favorite quotes in the Leviathan series: "Reality had no gears, and you never knew what surprises would come spinning out of its chaos."
> 
> This piece was an exciting challenge for me, as I got to explore a much different dynamic between Roy and Riza than I normally write. As I said to Luly as I was working on this, these characters are both so strongly shaped by their past (and of course, everyone is shaped by their past in some regard) that changing their pasts has a significant ripple effect to alter so much else. Because of this, it was interesting to try to find a balance between "alternate universe" and simply out of character. I think I was also able to really stretch my technical skills with this piece, as far as exposition, pacing, and integration of description and dialogue. I'm really please with how it turned out, especially given that I put it together in just over a week. I hope you love it just as much!


End file.
